


Dangerous Librarians

by BJ (darali_starscream)



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Gen, surprise character - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-05-02 21:01:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5263469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darali_starscream/pseuds/BJ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not all the dangerous librarians are eldrich abominations with tentacles and acid blood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dangerous Librarians

Picture a radio station. Simple one-story cinderblock building, the letters NVCR on the sign out front. There's a reception area, a breakroom, some offices, a communal area where the rank-and-file have their cubicles. There're restrooms, a maintenance closet, discreet hiding places for Sheriff's Secret Police personnel, a nondenominational bloodstone circle, and a dark crypt where the management hold their unholy rites. There's a station pet, a station spider, a small colony of station ants, and an exceptionally lazy station poltergeist. There might also be a faceless old woman, but as a radio station is a workplace and not a home the conventions are a little vague on whether or not she really lives there or just visits.

And of course there's the broadcast center. Picture a small room, walls padded with sound-dampening foam. Underneath the window between the producer's booth and the broadcast booth sits a table which holds the sound board. The rest of the booth's dimensions and features suit whatever function they're needed for at the time -- flexibility is important in public broadcasting. And because this is a working area there's a bit of clutter. Torn off sheets from the teletype machine, neatly printed news memos, a blank legal pad with a pencil for automatic writing (the radio station has a special exemption from the ban on writing instruments).

And finally, picture a man. He's not really tall, not really short. He's not thin, but he's not fat either. Not ugly, but not especially pretty. The most remarkable thing about him is his fuzzy scarf; it purrs when you pet it. At the moment he's fussing with his cell phone and sipping coffee. When the time is right he locks his phone, slips a pair of headphones over his ears, pulls a microphone close. In the producer's booth an intern counts down on fingers, until--

"There are horrors and monsters that stalk us all, under the cover of night. Yet there are good things hiding in the dark as well, mysterious, beautiful and precious.

"Welcome to Night Vale.

"It seems we have a new person in town today, listeners! Old Woman Josie was seen this morning talking to a man driving a car with rental stickers in the windows, as the angels watered her flowers and tended the herb garden. Another angel stood with Josie, long-fingered hand moving gracefully through the morning air as she talked with the strange man.

"Just a reminder, listeners, that angels are not real and can neither garden nor give directions. They tend to forget that Bankers Road turns into a one-way street as it passes through Old Town Night Vale.

"We will keep you up to date on this visitor's movements, listeners, but for now, let's take a look at the Community Calendar:

"Sunday has been designated a day of total darkness by the City Council. Time to catch up on your sleep!

"Monday night the Night Vale Symphony Orchestra will be holding a charity concert in Radon Canyon. The program features guest conductor and soloist Lee Marvin and includes selections from the operas 'I Want To Be Your Canary' and 'The Tragedy of Maria and Draco,' as well as a moan-along of patriotic open vowel sounds. The event is all-ages and family friendly. Tickets are available now at the still-smoking ruin of the Night Vale Opera House, with proceeds going to benefit the Night Vale Antique Society.

"Tuesday is Perfect Your Hangover Day at the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex. Over 21 only, please.

"On Wednesday the Night Vale Office of Assessment and Taxation will send auditors to all private homes within the Night Vale city limits, both to reassess the property's value and to check for code violations. The full Night Vale Building Code is available at City Hall in The Hidden Room Nobody Knows About near The Secret Room Nobody Likes To Talk About. The Office of Assessment and Taxation reminds all Night Vale homeowners that code violations are grounds for relocation to the abandoned mine shaft.

"Thursday has gotten greedy, and is hogging the rest of the week.

"This has been . . . the Community Calendar.

"I've just been informed, listeners, that the latest interloper has parked his car in front of the Night Vale Public Library. He's gotten out of the car, a tall middle-aged man wearing a long gray coat. Oh my-- he's walking up the steps, armed with nothing but a canvas messanger bag. Listeners, is this man in crisis? Is he perhaps attempting to commit suicide via librarian? No sir, please! Whatever horrible crimes you may have committed in your life, no one deserves such an unspeakable fate.

"Oh thank goodness. The Sheriff Secret Police, of course, have not engaged our visitor in any way -- per city ordinance they are not permitted to interfere in the daily lives of citizenry. However, local child hero and bibliophile Tamika Flynn has intercepted the stranger and appears to be talking him away from the library's front door. Tamika's grown since she was last seen in town; she must be at least two inches taller.

"Well, all children must grow up eventually.

"And now, a word from our sponsors:

"It has been so long, and you have been so far away. Your mind has perfectly preserved this, the place where you remember being happy -- although you doubt that you really were. Instead of the shining faces and etherial forms of your dear friends, everywhere you see functionally similar bands of muscle over skeletons, as though these people were the same as the nonentities that populate your current life. You hopes for the future were built on a delusion, and the only sound you hear is the smash as your last dream shatters at your feet.

"Playstation -- Greatness Awaits.

"This is incredible! Intern Jerry has contacted the station, and it seems Tamika was not successful in persuading the interloper to abandon his quest for dangerous books and their forbidden knowledge. Instead, he went to his rental car, opened the trunk, and pulled out a broadsword, an old but clearly well-cared for crossbow, and several wooden stakes. That's-- that's ridiculous! Librarians are not vampires! Vampires have avoided Night Vale since the Founders gave the sun permission to rise off-schedule. An unpredictable day-night cycle is not good news for creatures that can't tolerate sunlight, after all.

"He instructed Tamika to wait outside and gave her a list of numbers to call should he not make it out alive; our brave Miss Flynn refused. She was not willing to let anyone, even an untrustworthy and clearly insane stranger, face the librarians alone. Her courage continues to inspire us all.

"Well . . . most of us all. Intern Jerry flatly refused to move from his spot on the sidewalk. A nice young man, but I don't know if he has the nerve for field work.

"We will keep you abreast of the situation as it continues to develop. But now, it's time for another edition of my popular life advice corner, Hey There Cecil.

"'Hey there Cecil. My husband and I have twin girls in the first grade. Until this year, we dressed them alike because it made laundry so much easier and cut down on fights. We just got a letter from Night Vale Public Schools that we need to start dressing them differently because of the recent rash of clone-based pranks. We feel this is unreasonable -- our household has been certified Stable And Loving by the City Council's Parenting Review Board. Do you think we should talk to the administration?' Signed, Annoyed in Arbordale.

"Hey there, Annoyed. While I agree that it's a little unfair to expect families to change their routines based on others' misbehavior, I wonder if this might be the perfect opportunity to start guiding your twins into building their own identities. After all, they're not babies anymore! Embrace the chance to bond with your girls as individual people and not two halves of a single child unit. Take them shopping for their own clothes, and buy machine washable so they can help out by doing some of their own laundry. As for the administration, pick your battles wisely. Your girls might be a little young to handle an Official Ostracision.

"'Hey there Cecil. I love it when you mention the station cat Khoshekh. I have a cat of my own that I love very much,' aw, she enclosed a picture. 'I've been dating a guy I met at work, and we're getting serious enough that I want to start inviting him over. But he's allergic to cats. Since you mentioned having this issue when Khoshekh stayed over with you and your boyfriend, I was hoping you would have some advice.' Signed, A Girl And Her Asthmatic.

"Hey there, Girl. First of all, you picture is adorable! I love the way you let your cat dig his hook fangs into your fingers, it really lets him show them off. It's true, Khoshekh is a stress-shedder and it seemed all our things were covered in loose fur in no time. Regular over-the-counter antihistamines seemed to work all right, as long as Carlos was careful not to rub his eyes. It might also help to have your place professionally cleaned every few months; pet hair and dander build up over time in the homes of even the most meticulous housekeepers. As to how to best acclimate your new boyfriend and your cat to each other, allow them to find their own rapport. It can take pets a while to warm up to new people. I'm sure I don't need to remind you, but for other cat loving listeners, make sure your antivenoms are up-to-date before you entertain. It's both good sense, and good manners.

"'Hey there Cecil. I was just wondering, HOW WOULD YOU LIKE YOUR REMAINS DISPLAYED YOU PUNY STRIP OF LONG PIG JERKY?!?!?' Signed, H. McDaniles, (Green Head)

"Ugh. Really? Really, Green Head?

"Listeners, I apologize. This is a personal matter and has no place on the public airwaves.

"I just received a text from Carlos . . . dearest Carlos . . . and he asked me to remind everybody with home cloning units to please restrict your production to muscle tissue and individual organs. Whole human clones are not sentient, they're impossible to train, and they're a public nuisance. And pranks involving them are just . . . tacky. That does it for this edition of Hey There, Cecil. Have a question? Whisper it into the vase of fake flowers on the kitchen table, and a Community Radio transcriptionist will pass it on to me.

"What? Oh, um, listeners? The City Council and Sheriff's Secret Police are advising all residents to take cover in their librarian shelters immediately. The City Council could not be reached for direct comment, and their out-of-office voicemail confirms, in a very rushed and breathless tone, that from now on their offices will close for lunch and never open again.

"Oh. Listeners, the light from the sun has gone dim. Thick columns of black smoke have started pouring from the chimneys of the Public Library. Witnesses report a strange, subaudible tremble buzzing up through their legs and into their bodies. They can hear voices, chanting words in a language unfit for human tongues. People have started to fall to the ground, but it is not in Glow Cloud inspired awestruck genuflection; it is the trembling of children seeing their greatest and most horrifying fears. Can it be, listeners? Could the librarians finally have tired of keeping their vigil over the dangerous dangerous books? Are we to see the ghastly thing that spawned them mainfest as a living presence, among us, here to feed on us, our families, our beloved little town? I do not know. I know that I am safe, here, in my booth but I don't know if you all are safe, if you heeded the instructions of the wise and benevolent City Council and got out of sight. Even the Glow Cloud has sunk to the earth and lays out as a gleaming carpet of mist over Memorial Square, emitting a faint squealing moan.

"Dear listeners, I know how routine can be a comfort when life overwhelms. So, holding my love for all of you close to your hearts, I give you . . . the weather."

The man's shaking hand turns a switch. Faintly, the day's weather report -- Electronaut, by VNV Nation -- plays. Many things happen elsewhere, things the man knows about because that's who he is and what he does. So when the weather ends and he turns the switch back, his hands are shaking for a different reason.

"Sound the all-clear! Everybody is back up on their feet-- except for the Glow Cloud of course -- all hail! -- it's floating at its preferred altitude. While the black clouds over the library have yet to fully disperse, the chimneys have gone back to their normal inky plumes. Absent a few bruises and ruptured eardrums, no casulaties have been reported.

"Just a few minutes ago, as the shaking stopped, our new visitor emerged from the library, holding the door for Tamika as she exited as well. They were both smudged with soot and ichor, his sword and her machete oozing with strange librarian blood. The visitor offered Tamika his arm and together they strolled down the front steps. Apparently their sortie was a success; Tamika carried the visitor's bulging messanger back with the strap across her chest. The sheer weight of all those pages and pages, and-- oh blackest night, the visitor is unloading those books into the back of his rental car, and they're all stamped with the bloody sigils of the Reference section! I shudder to think of what unholy monster these two must have defeated in order to check them out.

"At the visitor's urging, Tamika got into the car. They shared a tired smile and bumped fists through the car's open window. Then the visitor looked up, noting the crowd surrounding him for the first time. In an elegant British accent, he asked, 'Would one of you please be so good as to direct me to the nearest pub?' I hope I got that right; sarcasm is a thing I struggle with sometimes.

"Intern Jerry, being the helpful sort, told him how to get to Big Rico's. And that's probably where he is now! Not an interloper, not one of us, but something in between . . . I wonder if Carlos would mind if we had our mandated slice tonight instead of our usual night. Something tells me this new person has a story.

"Stay tuned next for ten hours of the faint scream air makes when it collapses into a sudden void. And goodnight, Night Vale.

"Good night."  
\---  
Welcome to Night Vale is the property of Commonplace Books, and the visitor is the property of Mutant Enemy. Playstation -- console and brand -- is owned by Sony. Today's weather is Electronaut by VNV Nation, off of the album Futureperfect. Did you enjoy this fanfic? Did you hate it beyond all measure? Did you read it in Cecil's voice? Feedback is always welcome via the Comments section, or e-mail me at darali_starscream@yahoo.com

Today's proverb -- wisdom is purchased with innocence. Make sure you get good value for yours.


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